


Hospital beds

by deathorthetoypiano



Series: Pretending [1]
Category: The Hour
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-18
Updated: 2013-02-18
Packaged: 2017-11-29 17:22:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/689520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathorthetoypiano/pseuds/deathorthetoypiano
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lix sits by Freddie's hospital bed. </p><p>Post-series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hospital beds

The walls were too white, the nylon curtains too perfectly creased, the bed aligned too neatly with the door and the window, the beeping too regular, the sheets too smooth. Too far above the street, it was silent, for no sound made its way so high up. Even the sunshine streaming through the sparkling glass of the windows was not enough to soften the harsh, functional lines and the sterile practicality of the room. It made her fingers itch.

She was close to tears most of the time, now, and it angered her. This awful business had ruined her. She could no longer control her emotions, and it had been weeks since she last laughed, or even smiled. She had almost stopped eating, was barely even drinking, and spent most nights lying awake, staring at the ceiling and wondering when something would change. She had not been to work in three weeks. In her defence, none of them had, but she still felt terrible about it. Without the structure of the show, with nothing to research or chase, she felt meaningless. She had spent too many years being defined by her work to stop now, and she was aware of watching everything she had accomplished slide away from her, along with her sanity. She was being even more impatient with people than usual, partly through worry and partly through frustration that, even when they explained things to her, she did not understand them. She was out of her depth and they all knew it. The doctors and nurses tried to avoid the room when she was there but, considering she hardly left now, they were finding it difficult, preferring therefore to ignore her as much as possible as they silently carried out their checks, and answering her short questions as quickly as they could. She felt bad about it, but her attempts to improve the situation had been entirely unsuccessful, so she had stopped trying - there were bigger things to worry about than whether or not she made some nurses uncomfortable. She leant forward, then, touching his hand, gently at first, then lacing her fingers through his, bringing them up close and breathing him in, searching through the awful hospital smell for that which was just ~him, and brushed her lips over his knuckles. Tears sprang to her eyes, but she ignored them, resting her forehead lightly on his hand. Long hours of waiting were taking their toll. Her joints ached, her eyes were sore, her head hurt, and she yearned to do something, anything, run, even. She admonished herself for being so selfish. Her discomfort was nothing, compared to this.

She heard footsteps, and straightened suddenly, dropping his hand guiltily. The door opened, and a nurse, whose name she had forgotten, entered. They eyed each other for a moment before she realised that there was none of the hostility that had been between them before. 

“Miss Storm,” the nurse greeted gently, and went about her usual observations. “You work with him, don’t you?”

Lix frowned. “That’s right,” she replied, wondering where she was going with this.

“And the other lady, who came in with him, who is she?”

“Bel?” she asked, and waited for the nurse to nod. “She’s our producer. They were close, until he went away and came back married and ruined it all...” She tailed off, and looked back at the nurse, who was frowning. “What?”

“I thought you were his girlfriend.” Lix raised an eyebrow and she continued, “Well you’re here all the time, not her.”

Lix stood up and went to the window. “It’s not like that.” She knew that the nurse was rolling her eyes, but was silent as she completed her observations, made notes, and checked his stitches, before leaving without a word.

She looked around the room, chewing her lip. She desperately wanted a cigarette, whisky, darkness. This room, the whole hospital, was the opposite of every place usually associated with her. She growled a little, and wondered when she had picked that up from Randall, then counteracted it by kicking the chair nearest to her, knocking it out of line, wondering if her need for chaos made her as mad as she thought Randall’s need for order made him. All the same, she wanted to break something, and scream until her lungs hurt. At the very least, she needed a cigarette. “I’m sorry, Freddie,” she said softly. “I’ve got to get out of here.” Picking up her bag, she leant over and kissed him, very gently, on his temple. But as she started to pull away, she could have sworn she felt his lashes move against her cheek. She froze, hovering only a couple of inches above him, staring intently down at him, willing him to move. “Open your eyes now, beautiful boy, and I won’t go,” she whispered. It was stupid. She knew it was stupid. If he could open his eyes, he would. If he could do anything to let them know he was alright, he would do. Worse, if he could hear but could not move, then she was putting unnecessary and unhelpful pressure on him. Her ultimatums were irrelevant, she told herself, and stood up.

He opened his eyes.


End file.
